


Breakfast of Champions

by SunnyD_lite



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Pre-tag to Flight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-01
Updated: 2009-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Typical Sandburg. Pure obfuscation, not a direct answer in the lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast of Champions

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This spring-boarded off a prompt from **janedavitt** who wanted the boys having breakfast and **Sentinel_thurs** prompt 274- In the kitchen. It went angsty on me. Hugs to **spiralleds** who did a quick lookieloo before I posted.  
> Disclaimer: still not mine, all hail petfly.****

Normally Jim was the first one up, well unless Sandburg hadn't gone to bed yet. But a studying Sandburg was a focused and mostly silent Sandburg, which is why the noise from the kitchen dragged Jim out of a sound sleep. It wasn't the blender, or the clash of a spoon against a glass bowl, but the soft hiss and "damn it". Nothing was as loud as someone trying to be quiet.

"Everything all right there, Chief?" Jim asked over the edge of the loft. His question was answered with the clang of the bowl dropped into the sink.

"Oh man, you're not supposed to be up yet," Sandburg replied with a tinge of a whine. "It's hard enough planning a surprise for you and now you're changing your sleeping habits too."

"Surprise?" Jim pulled on his robe and headed down to the kitchen. Extra sleep would have been nice, but clearly wasn't on today's agenda. Plus, didn't Sandburg know he hated surprises? Jim thought he'd made that clear after the monastery cum mystery vacation. Unless, "Any particular reason for this surprise, Chief?"

He focused on his roommate, elevated breathing, eyes staring at the mixed batter, and—wait for it—the slight shrug of the back muscles. Some day he'd have to watch Blair play poker, see if he had any more tells.

Blair turned and with wide-eyed innocence stated, "Sunny weather? The fresh blueberries I found at the market yesterday? Simon ranting about all work and no play? Does there need to be a reason?"

Typical Sandburg. Pure obfuscation, not a direct answer in the lot. Caro used to plan surprises; each had a hidden price tag, an emotional trap. As he was reaching for the coffee-- one advantage of Sandburg's morning activities-- Jim just sighed. What was the cost of this surprise?

"Enjoy your coffee, the rest won't take too long," Sandburg had turned back to his batter, and added the aforementioned blueberries.

"The rest?" Jim leaned against the counter, mostly out of the way.

"Buckwheat pancakes with organic blueberries topped with that maple syrup from that reserve we camped near last month." Blair spun around the kitchen like a whirling dervish. "Plus some smoked turkey bacon. One of my students last semester turned me onto this alternative butcher. Great stuff."

Jim mentally cringed as he reviewed the state of the countertop. Sandburg was normally meticulous in the kitchen, tidying as he went so you'd barely know the effort that had gone into any given creation. Something wasn't right here. The trails of flour and patches of drying batter was evidence enough of that.  
"Anything else you want to tell me?" Jim consciously uncrossed his arms. He had listened to lecture 107 about body language and how to best put an interviewee at ease. Might as well test the theory on a master.

The master who was currently facing away from him, pouring batter into the cast iron pan that, by the smell of it, had housed the bacon a few minutes ago. "Um, the syrup has zinc and magnesium, so it helps with cholesterol, Mr. Wonderburger. And turkey bacon has half the fat but all of the taste."

"Did the doctor leave my cholesterol count on the machine or something? I figured with your monitoring, it had no choice but to go down. My blood pressure, that's a different—" Jim's comments were cut off by the clang of the bowl on the counter. Blair stayed facing away from him. This was not a good sign.

"No, no doctor message. Did you have an appointment?" Blair's hand combed through his hair. "Sorry, not trying to over manage you. It's just," he fiddled with the pancakes. "There's a study coming up."

"Sandburg." It came out as a growl, and he noticed that his arms had crossed themselves in front of his chest, but needing him to do a study seemed just the right bait and switch for a grease-lite laden breakfast. "Is there something you needed to ask? Don't try to sweeten me up."

The surprised expression on Sandburg's face seemed real enough. "Jim, man, this isn't a bribe. No way would I do that to you. It's more of a, well, a thank you, I guess."

That was unexpected. "Thank you for what?"

"This study, well I could use it for a new doctoral thesis. I haven't mentioned it, but my advisor isn't exactly thrilled with my progress."

New thesis? But if Sandburg didn't need to study him, was this a kiss off breakfast? Any interest Jim had had in the now burning pancakes completely disappeared. "Were you going to wait for the smoke detector to turn those?" Somehow having the loft back to himself didn't sound desirable. He watched as Sandburg spouted off what Jim assumed were foreign curses as he dumped the silver dollar pancakes into the trash.

"Guess those were pour le chat as the French say." He shrugged. "I'll keep a better eye on the next batch. You prefer the small pancakes, right?"

He did, usually. Sally had made them on weekends when his dad was travelling. He and Steven would compete to see how many they could eat. He'd never told anyone about that, how did Sandburg know? "Thank you for what, Sandburg?"

He stayed facing the stove. "Do I have to list it? You've been great. Letting me hang at the station. Doing the tests, even if I have to twist your arm. And, well living here. This is way more than I'd hoped for and I think this is really the only way I can thank you."

His breathing was arrhythmic. That was a relatively short speech in Sandburg land. Something was definitely off. "So you've found a sexier subject? Am I being dumped?" Jim tried for jovial. He didn't think he'd made it.

"Not sexier." Sandburg gulped. "Let me rephrase that. If I change topics, I won't have to reveal your identity to anyone. I've been thinking about that, especially with what Brackett's hi-jinxs," He stayed facing the stove but his back muscles looked like a macrame pot holder. "There's just no way to guarantee your safety, and if I can't do that, I'm not holding up my end of the deal."

The deal. Jim kept thinking of it as more of a devil's bargain. All he was to Sandburg was moving research. He couldn't forget that. "What's this study, Chief?"

Blair scraped the bottom of the fry pan, flipping the pancakes. He turned and for the first time this morning, Jim saw true enthusiasm on his features. "It's in Borneo. The professor has already been there once, so we should have a good reception. There's enough funding for a full lifestyle study. I'd be looking into the manhood rituals and might even take part in some. How do you think I'd look with facial tattoos?"

This was a kiss off breakfast. How could Jim compete with a lost tribe? One thing held true. Jim hated surprises.


End file.
